


Leapt

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Kid Fic, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 05:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3883984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil loses Legolas for a minute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leapt

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “daddy!Thranduil trying in vein to baby-proof his Kingdom for baby!Legolas. Thranduil chasing after toddler!Legolas as the child learns to run/climb/jump? Thranduil spotting teen!Legolas jumping from rails to rail/platform to platform as it's quicker than taking the stairs and letting out the most inhuman shriek.” prompt on [The Hobbit Kink Meme](http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/11476.html?thread=23685332#t23685332).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He only turned his back for one second. Galion asked a question, Thranduil responded, and in that single heartbeat, the little prince slithered out of his father’s grasp. Worse yet, Galion, who faced them and by all rights should have seen where Legolas went, could only offer apologies and no ideas. 

One—apparently incompetent—butler isn’t enough to ensure Legolas’ safety. So of course, Thranduil calls the nearest guard to send for the captain, exercising every ounce of control in his tense body. He can’t make a show of things. He has a reputation to uphold, calm and unflappable, even though on the inside, he’s an alternate mix of horror and anger. 

He conducts a search himself. He walks as briskly as his rigid posture can allow, working in a radius from where they started, calling out his son’s name in a level tone meant to carry. He does his utmost not to show his fear, though he can’t help but relive the private memory of taking a very young Legolas, still a toddler barely walking, up to his throne the first time. Legolas had marveled at everything, sat in his father’s lap to play with Thranduil’s long hair, nestled sleepily against Thranduil’s chest, and then, in the brief moment Thranduil met with the captain of the guards, slipped off Thranduil’s lap to totter to the edge of the platform. If Thranduil hadn’t caught him so swiftly, he might well have wandered over the edge and fallen to his death, leaving a grief-stricken, guilt-ridden king in his wake. 

Thranduil has tried to keep a much stronger watch on him since then, as his potential dangers have only increased with age, but of course, Thranduil is only one man, and Legolas is a very willful little prince. 

The search takes Thranduil through several winding corridors, too-towering steps and too-narrow, wall-less platforms. Once, these designs seemed majestic and mature, but since his son’s birth, they feel entirely too hazardous. Rare though Elven children are, surely there should be more railings. He’s already had them installed where he can, but of course he can’t be seen to redesign the entire kingdom simply because his heart isn’t as made of stone as others seem to think it. 

When he does finally find Legolas, it’s only through the intense paternal instinct to look up. He finds Legolas on a platform raised high above him, the dark abyss and rushing river below. Legolas stands on a stone fence around the edge, his feet still too small to cover the entire width. His balance looks precarious at best, and before Thranduil’s even gotten a word out of his mouth, his piercing eyes make it very clear that Legolas is to return to his father’s side _this instant._

Legolas must see it, because a split-second later, he’s leaping off the post. Thranduil lets out an agonizing shriek that doesn’t sound even remotely Elven. He dashes forward, mindless of the trajectory, just drowning in worry, even as Legolas lands gracefully on the railing in front of him. 

Without a thought, Thranduil grabs him around the middle. Legolas has no time to protest. He’s swiftly lifted from the edge, dragged back towards the center of their platform, and secured at his father’s side. Thranduil becomes belatedly aware of the guards stationed at either end of his wide platform, both looking at their king, likely drawn more by his shrill cry than the presence of their prince. Paying them no mind, Legolas simply says, “I’m fine, ada. I just thought it would be faster than the stairs.” His bright blue eyes are full of innocence; he has no idea that he’s nearly given his father a heart attack. 

Of course, Thranduil understands that Legolas is simply a free spirit that wants to explore the kingdom without his father’s watchful eye. Thranduil’s own childhood is centuries past, but his memory isn’t so poor. It stops him from scolding Legolas as harshly as he wants to, though it doesn’t stop him from his own concern. 

And he doesn’t want to be any more undignified in front of the guards than he’s already been. He nods tightly and slips his fingers into Legolas’, gripping on too tightly for Legolas to have any hope of escape. They’ll have to speak of it in private, and perhaps Thranduil will have to reconsider his earlier want to stretch a net of silk beneath all the platforms. 

In the meantime, he drags Legolas off to feed the elks like they’d planned, firmly holding hands.


End file.
